The King's Ward
by heroofmyownstory
Summary: "Morgana sat in her satin nightdress on the wooden table Gaius and the servant boy used to make medicinal concoctions for Uther. She had been waiting there for quite some time. Her gift was her doom, she knew. But she wasn't going down without getting her one last wish." / Mergana ArMor ArWen MerWen Don't like, don't read. AU, obviously. :)
1. Wandering at Midnight

**The King's Ward**

 _Chapter One_

Morgana sat in her satin nightdress on the wooden table Gaius and the servant boy used to make medicinal concoctions for Uther. She had been waiting there for quite some time. Her gift was her doom, she knew. But she wasn't going down without getting her one last wish.

Finally, Merlin entered.

Morgana looked up, trying to conceal her smirk, but the green eyes sparkled with their characteristic mischief.

Merlin was stunned, to say the least, to find a lady of such high lineage sit on his working table, in a satin nightdress that was more see through than he thought he should be allowed to see.

The thought crossed his mind that she had come here to seduce him, but the notion was so unthinkable he quickly dismissed it. The nightdress must have been for somebody else. For all he knew, this is what princesses wore every night. Maybe it was a royal thing that he simply could not understand, like most of their traditions.

"M-Morgana..." he stuttered, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the fabric covering - if we could call it that - her ample bosom.

"Merlin," she looked suddenly so helpless and desperate. She stood up, drawing the white fur coat in front of her chest. Merlin had nothing left to concentrate on than her eyes. "Merlin... I..."

"What's wrong, Morgana?" His chest swell with the desire to protect her. He didn't recognize it, because he hadn't felt it before, but it was the beginnings of love that were starting to blossom in his heart. He would have denied it, even if he knew, knowing he had more chance to be appointed Uther's future successor than a chance with the Lady Morgana.

Morgana stood up, approaching him, her fur coat covering everything. It was with relief and disappointment that he acknowledged this. He did not want to have disrespectful thoughts about her. It was wrong, just plain wrong.

"Merlin," she said, eyes imploring him to something he did not yet know and could not fathom, "Merlin... I think I have magic."

"N-No... I don't think you do." Merlin suddenly didn't know what else to say; the confession had been so unexpected never in his worst nightmares had he expected it to come. He was completely at loss for words.

"I do, Merlin!" She insisted, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. They were only inches away from each other now, her chest nearly touching his. He felt dizzy with attraction. But Kilgharrah... "Merlin, I... I can't control it, Merlin; it just comes. When I woke up, again, in the middle of the night - and the dreams, Merlin, the dreams! Have you not noticed their uncanny ability to come true? Like with that girl, Sophie - "

"Morgana," Merlin said, trying to sound like the exasperated voice of reason calming down a young, naive girl with an overactive imagination. "You can't have magic. One of the pretequisites to being a sorceress is being able to control your powers."

"Oh, and how would you know?!" She snapped, furious. Here she was confessing her greatest secret to a man she thought she was in love with, who was now waving it away like it all meant nothing. She was furious.

Oh, how quickly all love had turned to hate.

"What about the dreams then?!" She demanded, as a last, desperate try. "They do come true. And they have protected Arthur numerous times."

Merlin forced a laugh, though to Morgana it came off genuine - genuinely supercilious. Morgana suddenly didn't know what she had been thinking coming here. What had she hoped to achieve? Now that it seemed clear that Merlin didn't return her feelings, any belief to the contrary seemed ludicrous, and any perceived evidence forced, a figment of her imagination - nay, delusion. She wanted to slap herself as much as she wanted to slap him, to hurt him as much as he had hurt her... but she knew that was silly and chided herself against her vengeful thoughts.

"How many times do you think people have nightmares? Of their relatives, of their friends dying horrible deaths? These are just dreams, Morgana. The fact that they sometimes coincide with reality are just that - coincidences."

Morgana was so frustrated she wanted to scream. The tears that had been prickling at the side of her eyes now came rolling down her pale, thin cheeks. She wiped her eyes and sniffled, hating how childlike and vulnerable she sounded. The only thing worse than being hurt, she thought, was others knowing that you were.

"I should go," she said, trying to hide her red face, contorted by the effort it took to suppress all her emotions.

"No! Morgana!" But she was already out the door.

Her sobs reverberated in the corridors she walked in, trying to find her way back to her chambers.

Feeling more miserable than she had ever recalled in a long time, she could no longer restrain her heart, giving her feelings full reign as she came undone. She regretted everything, every decision that had led up to this point, blaming herself all of it, wishing she could go back - retract her first and only and failed attempt at seduction, her foolish feelings for a boy who cared not for her sort, princess or not - she supposed it was better this way... When it came to romance between royals and their servants, one could never know whether the one of lesser rank was in love with the person or the title... many a prince and princess had fallen flat on their faces after finding the "love of their life..." Oh, how cruel servants could be! She supposed it was better that at least Merlin was honest... and didn't try to take advantage of her feelings to attain a higher rank in the hierarchy of the Court...

Oh, yes. Kind Merlin. Good Merlin. But she supposed he was as much of a dolt as Arthur had always insisted... who else would so obviously deny the most obvious evidence of magic, laugh off a confession from a potential sorceress in Uther's kingdom?

Her heart suddenly skipped a beat. She hoped... she hoped, certainly, that he hadn't only feigned disbelief but actually, truly rejected the notion that she might be a sorcerer... even if for Morgana that seemed to indicate a complete lack of basic intelligence... and in the short time she had gotten to know Merlin, she had thought him more intelligent than that...

She dismissed the thought, closed the fear away into a part of her mind she vowed not to open until the next morning. Standing in front of Arthur's chambers, she suddenly thought everything did happen for a reason. She didn't truly desire sex, just the illusion of intimacy it gave. It was for the better that Merlin hadn't taken the initiative, hadn't noticed the signs that of course could be easily misinterpreted. She heaved a sigh of relief, and thanked the Heavens for making Merlin into such a gentleman... or, you know, just plain not interested in her. It stung, but she shooed the thought away, because she could not take the pain. Rejection stung all the more because she had never really felt it before.

Arthur. She focused her mind on Arthur. She suddenly needed his love like a breath of fresh air. The boy who had been in her life since her early childhood, ever since her father's death - who had been her partner in crime, her rival and her confidante all her life... what she wanted most of all right now was a friend, who assured her she was still loveable, that the gift - or curse, it was debatable - of magic hadn't transferred her into a detestable monster overnight...

From the end of the corridor, she could already spot the guards in front of Arthur's chamber. She froze, tried to make no noise as she thought of a way to fix this. She thought about abandoning her mission halfway through, but then decided that just would not do. She strode over to the guards, pulling the woolen coat closer together in front of her body. She now doubly regretted her choice of nightwear. She held her high and talked with all the might she could muster, "Let me into the Prince Arthur's chambers at once. I need to speak with him immediately." The guards exchanged glances. "Imminent orders from the King."

The guards seemed dubious.

"One of you could certainly jog along and ask the King himself," she said before either of them could talk, "and waste all of our times, but all you would achieve is anger him by doubting the word of his ward. What is a mere guard next to the King's ward?" She no longer had to muster the might; it came naturally. She talked, sounded, and looked like a real Queen. Her attire did not matter - the feeling she instilled in the hearts of others was what truly defined a royal.

The guards exchanged another meaningful glance with which they seemed to communicate to each other that they would not risk a telling-off by the King. They stepped aside and let Morgana pass through. The thought occurred to her that the doors might be closed, but they magically opened when she pushed down the door handle. She did not stop to think about it, just thanked the Gods for her luck, and stepped inside, shutting the chamber doors behind her.

Arthur was already stirring, scratching the back of his head, his eyes barely open, like a two week old kitten's. He looked helpless and vulnerable. It felt invasive to see him in this state.

She walked over to his bed, a wave of nervousness washing over her. Cracking her knuckles, she was forced to realize that this too had probably been another bad idea. She should not, she decided, make important decisions under such intolerable duress.

"Morgana?!" He said, still half-asleep. "What are you doing here? In my chambers?"

"Ssh," she said, eyes imploring, "please don't yell. I had to seek you out. I am troubled."

"At midnight?" He asked, glancing at the clock on the wall opposite of him.

"Yes, Arthur," she said, a tad exasperated. "I had another nightmare."

"Just learn to ignore them, like all grown-ups," Arthur said irritably.

Could the men of Camelot simply not show any support towards a fellow? Morgana was furious, but it was her who had come to his chambers; she decided against showing it. "Arthur, please," she begged, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Arthur seemed revolted. Her second rejection of the day, and Morgana could not fathom how ugly she must look to these men. "Arthur, I'm begging you. I'm alone and I need help. Somebody to... just hold me." Her eyes were tearful. She began sobbing softly, barely audibly, but all the more miserably.

Arthur sat up in his bed. He suddenly felt awake. He had never seen Morgana cry since his father's passing. It was a serious matter, one he knew he could no longer downplay, nor chalk up to her usual so-perceived nuttiness.

"What is it?" His voice was suddenly much softer. Morgana, who had lost hope up until this point, could barely believe the sudden change in demeanor.

"I... I..." Morgana had already told someone who hadn't believed her, and she supposed that had been the best thing that could happen to her. What if someone believed her and reported her? She had been so desperate for companionship she had left common sense behind. Thankfully, as her panic decreased, so seemed her common sense to be returning. She wanted to tell Arthur - she burned to do so - but it did not make logical sense. Maybe tomorrow... when the fog of emotion around her mind had cleared. Maybe then, and only then, she decided, would she risk opening up her heart to someone again. After all, Arthur had tossed it aside one too many a time previously to grant him immediate access to her every thought and emotion.

Oh, vengefulness would just never leave her, would it? The demon of it crept inside her, destroying her insidiously, from the inside, until nothing was left but an insatiable desire for revenge. But that would only come later...

Before she became a monster, she first had to be a girl, just a little girl with a thorn in her heart...

"I... do you mind if we just... we just... I just want someone to hold me. Remember when at night we were both afraid and came to each other's chambers for some comfort? I need... I need some of that now." She hated being so open and vulnerable with Arthur. "I just need... I just need a little love."

Arthur didn't seem to fancy the idea of her in the same bed with him. His eyes were wide as saucepans. Morgana felt awfully unlovable. Did no man in Camelot like her, even? Did the boy who had almost been like a sibling reject her too at her time of need? Ah, fickle men! She longed for the uncomplicated amity of her servant and closest friend...

"I..." Morgana said. "I just need... I can go, if you want," she said at last, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't even try to hold them back anymore. She knew it was no use; the emotions were simply too intense.

"N-no! Stay," Arthur said, his eyes panicked. He smiled at her tentatively, blue eyes full of uncharacteristic warmth, especially when they looked at him. "Like when we were children," he said, smiling, obliging. He suddenly seemed too eager, but Morgana didn't know what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. She only slid of the white fur coat after she was safely tucked under Arthur's covers, ignoring all of the prince's disparaging comments as to her state of mind for doing so. She hated him, but she had no one else. She supposed she should be grateful for the little love she had left, even if it came from a little tyrant like Arthur. She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine them as they were when they had been as children...

Playing, laughing together... loving each other as true siblings... until adolescence set in, and Arthur started distancing himself from him, abandoning her and their relationship in favor of swords and other manly endeavors... since then, anything and everything she ever was or would be would only be considered silly by him, God knew why.

"Can you hold me?"

"I - Morgana. We're not children anymore."

"I know. But for just one night... let's pretend we're still friends and love each other, alright? I need someone. I'm so alone."

Up until that point, it hadn't even occurred to Arthur how alone she might feel in a foreign castle far away from her homeland, no more relatives left, with only an idiot like him and a kind but lowly servant girl to keep her company... and out of these two, only Gwen was openly a friend. He decided to harbor and nourish his feelings in secret. He could not bear to admit them. Saying them aloud would make it more real, and once it became real, there was no going back. He had to deny it even from himself as long as it was possible.

As glamorous as her life seemed on the outside, he thought, it was devoid of life and therefore meaningless. He obliged and hugged her. He smelled the whiff of the perfume on her hair, and could feel how thin the fabric of her night dress was. Now, he thought he understood why she had refused to take off her fur coat before she was safely covered by his sheets. He stifled a chuckle. Then the horrific truth dawned on him. If the dress hadn't been for him - he doubted it was - who had it been for?

"Arthur," she suddenly said. "Don't hug me."

Good, he thought, stifling a sigh of relief. It was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.

"You asked for it!" He said out loud.

"And now I take it back," she said softly.

Arthur grumbled something under his breath, which Morgana ignored. "Good night," he said out loudly for her to hear, and she said, in a soft, half-awake voice. "Good night."

Arthur turned to his right, away from Morgana.

Morgana was asleep within minutes, but Arthur stayed up the entire night, tossing and turning, thinking about what great friends they had once been, and where they were now. Thinking about her beautiful curls... her pouty lips... and how he could desire them but never touch them, for any attraction between was simply unthinkable, how his sexuality had ruined every friendship and lost him the only friend he had ever had...

He did not want her, for he wanted a sweet and manageable woman lime Guinevere, not a force of nature like Morgana. He wanted his home to be a sanctuary, and not another battlefield. The intrigues of Court were enough to trouble him - he wanted to be left in peace upon his return to the Royal Chambers... he wanted a wife like his mother Igraine... he wanted his other half, not his total and utter equal. He wanted love, not rivalry. He...

He fell asleep with only thoughts of Morgana. That night, he forgot who Guinevere even was...

* * *

A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading so far, first of all.

This story is set somewhere in Season 1. Obviously, I altered the timelines somewhat... This story is going to focus mainly on pairings and the characters' inner turmoils, though of course "action", so to say, won't be scarce as well. If you don't like love triangles (there's going to be more than enough), or AUs, or ArMor, or ArWen, or Mergana, or Merlin x Guinevere (this ship died so soon I'm not sure whether it has a name or not...), it's better if you don't read on.

Reviews are most welcome, as long as they are written in a civil fashion.

So long, babes. xx


	2. The Morning After

_Chapter Two_

 **T** he following morning Arthur woke up with a dizzy head. His limbs felt heavy, his head like lead. He felt like he had just returned from another universe at warp speed, and both the adventure and the travel had exhausted him. He wondered what had transpired in the universe of his dreams... then he shifted his legs and with the movement so did the fabric of his nightgown. Suddenly he felt a gooey, lukewarm substance come in contact with his inner thigh.

No. Oh no, he thought, panicked. The next thing he felt was the absence of his usually erect flag. It was now drooped, like the flag of Camelot after it was let down after twilight. He didn't need to guess twice to know what his dreams had been about, and who. This had never happened sleeping next to Guinevere. He didn't want to contemplate what that meant, if it meant anything at all.

He shifted again, and the increasingly colder substance brushed against his thigh again. He suddenly felt exposed, embarrassed and ashamed - his heart was beating furiously against his ribcage. He had to remind himself that Morgana wouldn't know - his night attire wasn't se through. His wasn't...

He automatically turned to Morgana. Her white fur coat lay on top of his bedside table on top of everything else. How careless she was, and how incredibly selfish... only caring about her own needs, what benefitted her at the moment... besides being self-obsessed, she was also incredibly short-sighted. To be fair, a little voice in his head said, she was also kind and just and more intelligent than anyone he knew...

But that, to be perfectly honest, wasn't what caught his attention the most at the moment. Lowering his gaze from her face- veiled by those luscious dark curls - he could see that she had tossed and turned around enough (just like he usually did in his sleep) for the sheets to uncover much of her body. Her nightgown's fabric was really very sheer...

It was like a heat wave. His flag was erect again; his face went enirely red, and he wondered how there could be any blood left to flow to his face anymore; his heart was beating against his ribcage furiously, as though trying to break free. He blamed Morgana for having this effect on him. He hated being so out of control. He hated the reaction his body had to hers. He hated, hated how maddeningly desirable she was, he hated how whenever he stepped out of line, she would not hesitate to shout with him; how she always won in intellectual spars; how his father seemed to favor his ward over his own blood at times... he hated how similar they both were, preventing them from possibly enjoying each other's company. Two spoiled brats, he thought, cannot love each other. He hated how they always fought, never agreed, that she was as competitive and arrogant - if not more - as he was...

That was it, he had to get her to leave. He forced himself to turn away, as much as he would have liked to go on staring at that body, to touch it, to taste it, to... no, he couldn't allow himself to go there. Visions of his body on top of hers were already invading his mind, driving him crazy all the more so because he knew it could never happen between them. Or if it did, it wouldn't lead to anything good. He would just get hurt, he knew, and he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

Morgana was already stirring in his bed. He was about to address her, telling her that his servant would be here soon, and unless she wanted rumors of her chastity - or lack thereof - to circulate the Castle, she should better get going...

But then Merlin entered.

The black-haired boy stopped short, his keys still in his hand, the guards glancing back over their shoulders curiously...

"Close the doors, for God's sake!" Arthur snapped irritably. He suddenly wished he was the heir to a tyrannical kingdom where they executed guards for much lesser of insolences.

His yelling made an already shell-shocked Merlin even more panicky, and he ran to close the large chamber doors behind him. Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"Do you live in a cave, Merlin?" he said out loud.

"I'm sorry, Sire," Merlin said, obedient as ever. He smiled dumbly in an attempt to placate his superior. Arthur just seemed even more irate by it.

"What's happening?" Morgana asked, having drawn the covers over her chest, looking around panickedly. The two boys turned to her.

"Maybe I should go," Merlin said suddenly.

"Maybe," Morgana agreed. She sounded irritable.

Merlin pulled a face, wondering what could have possibly transpired between these two, unsure whether he really wanted to know or not... Her tone had been hurtful enough as it was.

"Yes, Merlin," Arthur said. "But come back in five with a fresh change of clothes for her. Find Guinevere; she'll tell you where they are."

Merlin nodded and, with a last surreptitous glance at Morgana, he exited the prince's chambers.

"Look!" Arthur yelled. "Look at the mess we're in right now! The mess you've made!"

"What?! It wasn't my fault!"

"You came here, begging me to hold you-"

"You could have said no,"

"Could I have? Really? Send a crying, desperate girl out of my chambers?"

"I wasn't crying, and I wasn't desperate-"

"Was too,"

"Was too?! Oh, how mature!"

"I was half-asleep, anyway!"

"You didn't look like it to me!"

"Oh, seriously, Morgana! Why were you so desperate anyway, as to seek me out?"

Morgana shook her head furiously, suddenly on the verge of tears again. Why could he just not hurt her so? Torture her so?

"I just wanted to be held," Morgana said. "To feel like I belong. I had... issues. But you wouldn't understand, you don't have feelings."

"Oh, we know you've always had issues! Just what is it this time?"

"Go to hell, Arthur. You really are a spoiled brat! No wonder everyone hates you!"

"Everyone... everyone doesn't hate me." He said quietly. No, Morgana was lying. Everyone clearly loved him. Otherwise, they would have said something. Wouldn't they?

"Oh, yes, they do! They're just too afraid to say it to your face!" Morgana yelled. "Because you're the King's son!"

Arthur was too stunned to speak.

"I hope that's just your usual morning flag raising," she suddenly said with a nasty smile, her green eyes like venom. "Otherwise, this would make this situation even more revolting."

"I - yes, it is, and it's natural for men! But you wouldn't know, because no man would ever want to touch your pasty body! You're whiter than chalk, for God's sake, go out once in awhile and get some sun. Oh, I forgot you don't have friends!"

"I have Gwen! And that's worth more than a thousand -"

Arthur forced a pitying laugh. "Oh, Guinevere? And does she love you or your title?" Servants befriending the ladies and princes they served in hopes of rewards wasn't unheard of in the Kingdom either.

"You know what," Morgana said, her fur coat in front of her, concealing all that she wanted to hide. She had already stood up, approaching him, her eyes gleaming with fury. She resembled a cat about to pounce. Arthur suddenly felt scared. "Neither do you. Just a bunch of your subjects who are too afraid to say how they feel about you."

"That's not true! 'Cause I have Gwen! And she loves me for me!"

After getting over her initial shock, Morgana said, clearing the infuriating, triumphant grin off of Arthur's face, "Oh, really? And how do you know she isn't in love with your title? After all, what is there to you? Who would you be without Uther? Just another good-for-nothing buy with an overly inflated ego who would never amount to much for all his pride. Oh, wait. You still won't."

Arthur was so angry he wasn't even aroused when Morgana slipped on the fur coat that was way too hot for the morning weather. Suddenly, Merlin entered, with Gwen by his side, and Arthur was glad for the distraction because he had no comeback at the ready, and couldn't have mustered one even if he strained himself.

"I-I brought your clothes, m'Lady..." Merlin said, beautiful robes hanging over his gangly arms as though he were a live coat hanger.

Arthur tried to tone down his hatred for Morgana by trying to focus on the love he had for Guinevere. Gwen smiled at him, that beautiful, gentle smile he was so fond of. Nothing like Morgana's prideful, nasty smirks and grins. The two girls were like fire and water - one burned him, the other nourished him.

"I came here to dress you," Gwen said. "In case you might need help."

"That's alright," Morgana said. "We'll get dressed in my chambers."

"But - isn't it so much simpler -"

"No," Morgana and Arthur snapped at the same time. They looked at each other uncomfortably, wondering whether they should change their position on the matter or not. The fact that their arch nemesis within the Castle agreed with them shook their resolve.

Merlin obediently handed the clothes over to Gwen.

"I - let's go," Morgana said, taking Gwen by the arm and dragging her after herself, her nightgown swishing as she walked. Merlin stared after them. Merlin and Gwen exchanged glances, but decided to follow through with their masters' bidding despite having opinions of their own on the matter. As servants, they didn't have right to anything else anyway.

* * *

Gwen and Morgana returned to their chambers. The court was alive and busy, but Morgana ignored the servants' glances. She greeted them as though her attire was perfectly justified at this time of day. She even forced a fake cough sometimes. "I'm sick," she said. "Need the fur coat." Luckily, it went down to her ankles, concealing the nightdress underneath it. Besides the servants, there was rarely anyone else in the Castle of Camelot. After Igraine's death, he seemed to evade fun like the plague. He absolutely despised company and any other suchlike reminders of his previous, much more social and blissful life with his late wife. Gwen felt awfully sorry for him sometimes. Other times, she heard him talk and the illusion of a broken man needing sympathy was ruined. He was a mad man who had built his own prison, holed up in his luxurious castle, but his life was devoid of any happiness at all. He had chosen this life, she knew, and could have reversed it anytime had he chosen to. He simply never chose to. She had to remind herself of that before she created an image in her mind of him that simply was not true. Her extreme empathy had many benefits, but her good heart was in many ways a major setback: she projected her own goodness onto others, so much that her empathy became a sin, it was so excessive.

But it had gotten the attention of someone as important as Arthur. Maybe it was worth something after all. Her kindness had made him feel safe and secure in his company. As a result, he had let down hos defenses and let her in to the secret part of his personality, the Arthur that only she knew. The Arthur that was kind and gentle... the Arthur that was attentive and sweet... who was emotional but just... She was beginning to truly fall for the boy, and it scared him. To be so dependent on another for one's own happiness, to need him as one does air... it was, it was dangerous and it scared her. What would he do with her heart once she gave it to him? She was nothing, after all, but a serving girl...

Morgana was getting dressed behind a placard, ranting on about how much of a jerk Arthur was. She was growing increasingly restless. For all her incessant tirades, she still hadn't revealed her reason for spending the night in Arthur's chamber. She doubted they had made love, judging by the nearly palpable hatred in the room... but who knows, maybe they had, and still weren't able to come to terms with their attraction for each other. She knew they had a soft spot for each other, even though they would have never admitted it - not even to themselves, she thought, much less out loud. They were too prideful, and there was no place for such pride in romance. She wondered if they knew, if they knew what love even was, neither of them having received much of it throughout their lives. Rich as they were, they were utterly alone in the world, never knowing who to trust.

Gwen sometimes felt sorry for them. When it came to them, she knew she wasn't projecting and under their protective shells, they were almost as vulnerable as she was.

"Are you really... seeing Arthur? Is he really courting you?" The question was so sudden Gwen immediately snapped out of her reverie. It was like being splashed with ice cold water. Judging by her voice, she had swallowed all her pride in order to ask that question.

"I... I... I don't know where we stand, really. You should ask him."

Morgana's heart skipped a beat. "So you really are seeing him." Her voice had lost all its previous warmth - because even hateful passion was warmer than this. She sounded stone cold.

"I... I don't know, Morgana."

"Well, who does then? Have you kissed him?"

"I -"

"Have you had sex?"

"God no! No, Morgana. We just kissed. I'm sorry... if that upsets you. I didn't... I wasn't aware that would upset you." That wasn't quite true, of course. She had just sort of hoped they would never be discovered, until of something serious developed, in which case she didn't feel her superior would be in a position to object to their union. If it was serious...

"You weren't, were you?!" Morgana snapped, turning to her, eyes afire with anger. Gwen swallowed hard. That girl was truly scary when she was angry. "That's my stepbrother you're talking about there. I'm not upset," she said, her voice and entire demeanor changing. Gwen could tell it was fake. She would have been able to tell even if she hadn't known Morgana as well as she did. "I don't care if anyone's dating him. They can have him all they want. I just... fail to see what any girl would see in him, you know? What do you like about Arthur, anyway?"

"I..." Gwen blushed.

"Come on, you can tell me," Morgana said encouragingly. She sounded genuine this time, or maybe she had just gotten the hang of this role in the meantime.

"Well..." Gwen began. Her cheeks turned even redder and her dark eyes began to sparkle as she talked about him, "Well... first of all, he's courageous. He's very funny."

Morgana grimaced in disgust of the praise Arthur was getting. Arthur? Funny? Her face read.

"He's also very handsome. Handsomest man in the five kingdoms, some might say." She said, giggling stupidly in her superior's opinion.

 _We get it, that someone is you_ , Morgana thought irritably but retained her poker face.

"But what I like most about him is how sweet he can be. He's actually very nice if you get to know him. The tough act is only an act, hence the name," she said with a little giggle, a slightly less annoying one this time. "I know you don't like him. But he's actually a very nice person deep down inside. He's just prickly because he's afraid of getting hurt. He's been hurt before too, you know."

"I'm not prickly! And who cares if he gets hurt, I bless the women who have hurt h in the best." She said, raising her arms wide, and suddenly to Gwen she resembled a Priestess of the Old Religion. But the servant girl shook the thought away, knowing that making any connection between witchcraft and Uther's beloved ward was treasonous.

"Don't be so mean, Morgana. He cares for you, you know." Morgana stared at her servant disbelievingly. "Deep down." Gwen felt the need to add.

"Sure, deep down," Morgana said, rolling her eyes. "I'm a misunderstood poet too, somewhere, deep down. Get with him all you want." She said angrily. "But don't try to get me to like him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!"

"I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!" Arthur snapped. Merlin sometimes wondered why two people who were obviously as obsessed with each other as Morgana and Arthur were couldn't just finally admit their feelings to each other. But Arthur had rejected Morgana before, and Arthur knew that Morgana would make him pay for it even if he did decide to pursue her now. The situation was hopeless. They were simply too prideful to allow their mutual attraction to blossom.

As much as he liked Gwen, he couldn't help but think she was just a stepping stone for Arthur on the way to his true destination: Morgana. Besides... he wanted, if possible, Gwen all to himself.

"You know what she said, Merlin?! That Gwen only loves me for my title, not anything else!"

The thought of her with anyone else but him - especially Arthur, who couldn't even appreciate her properly, what with receiving other women in his chambers et al - made him mad with rage. But he had to quell it. His fate depended on it.

"Well..." Merlin said. "I wouldn't know." He said at last, diplomatically. He hoped it was the case. It was still better than the alternative - that she really, truly loved him. This insupportable toerag out of all people…

"Exactly! And neither would that stupid witch! God, why does she insist on ruining my life all the time?" He asked rhetorically, shaking his head.

"I... I don't know. May I just ask... what was she doing in your chambers, if you hate her so?" Merlin relished in the sight of his face at the question. He looked like someone had pulled the rug from under him. He liked making the overconfident Prince feel this way. It gave him a sense of power he didn't otherwise have.

Arthur glared at him. "I don't know, Merlin. She just came in here crying like a lunatic begging me to hug her like I did when we were children! Who understands women anyway, Merlin? Definitely not you."

"I know plenty about girls," Merlin insisted. "In fact, I had received one in my chamber last night." He added cockily.

Arthur at first looked a strange mixture of angry and shocked, then he burst out in a supercilious a laugh. He clapped Merlin on the black without the slighest hind of friendliness. "I'm sure you did," he said. "Pray tell, then, who was it, you heartthrob?"

Merlin went red. He had spoken without thinking and suddenly had no idea what he should reply. He surely couldn't reveal the true identity of her midnight visitor. After all, given the fact that the visitor in question had spent the night with another man, he supposed it didn't mean much. She probably didn't care who she seduced as long as she seduced someone. Though he wasn't quite sure whether Arthur would have slept with her - or her with him - the situation was rather compromising for the both of them.

"I... um... um..." Merlin stuttered lamely.

Arthur was now roaring with laughter. "There, I told you! Look, I had a midnight visitor, Merlin, not you. Don't try to be me. You can't be me."

Merlin often had the urge to punch his superior, but this time it was particularly hard to resist. How could someone be so rude and cocky?! Was this man really the future of Camelot? If so, he thought, we're all doomed.

"God forbid I should try," Merlin said at last. If he weren't his servant, he thought, their relationship dynamic would be so different.

"Exactly," Arthur said, looking at him suspiciously as though he was vaguely suspecting Merlin of being sarcastic. "Now dress me."

Merlin grudgingly obliged, concealing his true feelings towards the matter well.

After Arthur was done getting dressed for his daily rounds of swordpractice with the knights of Camelot, Merlin was tasked with doing the washing. Arthur had tossed his nightwear into the pile of unwashed clothes, even though Merlin recalled having washed it only two days ago. He decided not to ask. Instead, he picked the nightwear out from the basket and lifted it up against the light coming in through the windows to observe it thoroughly. It smelled awful, first of all, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. It took him a few moments to find what he was looking for, though he wasn't exactly sure what he had been looking for in the first place, all he knew that Arthur wasn't the Crown Prince of Hygiene and if it were up to him, he would have gone unbathed for weeks and if it weren't for his servants, his clothes would have gone unwashed all year. All right, that was a bit of a stretch; if it weren't for his servants, Arthur would have complained all day and night long about the state of his clothes, but would never have stooped low enough to do a servant's work.

Dangling it far away from his face, holding it with only two fingers - too disgusted to expose his skin to it too much -, he saw the rather large stain on it. "Oh my God..." he muttered under his breath. He was alone for so much of each day, he was beginning to develop this habit of the old and lonely. He threw Arthur's garments back into the basket with the rest, wrinkling his nose, then burst into a wry smile. Did Arthur fancy Morgana... more than Guinevere?

* * *

Author's Notes: I hope everyone enjoys reading the story as much as I enjoy writing it!

Obviously, the story's main focus is going to be the two intertwining love triangles. So if you don't like those kinds of things, don't read! :) I have to stress this because I have put up a story with a clear incest warning, and some reviewer just couldn't get the message. (Not that I support incest, it was just based on an Arthurian legend.)

If you like it/are reading it, please let me know in a review. :) xx


	3. The Aftermath

_Chapter Three_

 **M** organa sat in her chambers, on her bed, lonely, deep in thought and miserable, long after her servant had left. She was fiddling with the hem of her dress, enjoying how fine the fabric was. It was the only good thing about her life, she felt.

Her heartbreak was causing her physical pain. Her chest was constricting excruciatingly, and she was barely able to breathe. A lone tear trickled down her face and she started sniffling. Her own vulnerability in face of challenges - rejection, in this case - made it even worse. How she longed to be emotionless... in Uther's kingdom, a lack of feeling equated to strength. In her own mind - which has been shaped by her surroundings since birth - it was the same as well. This internalized hatred for emotions, the denial of their naturalness, their inevitable part of the human condition, wasn't generally very good for her emotional health.

She kept thinking, but she steeled herself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to wash over her. It made her proud in all the misery. Her strength was the shining light in the darkness. It helped her climb out of the pit of despair her emotions had trapped her in. Clutching it like a crutch, she was able to climb out of it and feel a little better about herself.

Gwen and Arthur...? She tried to think about it now, rationally and not blinded by emotion. She coudn't be mad at Gwen - not for someone like Arthur anyway.

Gwen had been telling her to act up on her feelings for the prince, and she had always denied their existence. Maybe it was partially her fault that things had been able to progress to this point between royalty and servant; she thought she knew Gwen well enough to know that Gwen would have stifled her own feelings for Arthur had Morgana claimed the prince for herself.

How did their relationship even began...? Gwen hadn't liked Arthur initially. How and why did it change? And when? Had she been so preoccupied with her own problems she truly hadn't noticed the blossoming romance between her own servant and stepbrother? Just how blind had she been?

It hurt... maybe, she thought wistfully, maybe she could have cut the romance in the root before it blossomed. She hoped it wasn't fully developed yet. That it wasn't past the point of reversal. She didn't even feel guilty for wanting to trample the budding flower of their love.

She knew she should, and she tried, and when she gave it way it came freely... but then she tried to turn off the tap of emotion, but it was too late. Once she gave them reign, they could not be dethroned and would rule them for the remainder of the day. She was emotional, yes - but not necessarily the good kind of emotional. For she was full of anger and hate and competitiveness as she was full of love and kindness and patience.

She wished more than anything to be with Arthur now that she knew he had someone else. That he wasn't thinking about her... missing her... fantasizing about her... lulled into a false sense of security by her own baseless fantasies of how he spent his free time, she had allowed her own - unreciprocated - feelings for Merlin to blossom.

She wondered how much of those feelings stemmed from desperation and loneliness, and how he had been there to help ease these feelings at her lowest. Except yesterday, she had sent her away like a gentleman and in retrospect she was glad for that. Well... not that much. She would have enjoyed making love to him, she knew. But it was better that they didn't, given that he didn't like her; her heart was already broken, but it didn't need to be trampled upon too. His honesty, however, made her respect him even more.

She wanted Arthur. She wanted Merlin less. With Merlin, there was no hope left. With Arthur, there always was... she knew he liked her. It was only about getting him to admit it to himself. If he did... she knew there would be no going back. He guarded his heart against her as though she were a menace. But she wasn't going to let him disrespect her by choosing another girl over her - someone so close to her no less! And a servant girl... it was mind-boggling.

/

Merlin and Gwen met in the washroom as they cleaned their master's dirty clothing and linen. They smiled at each other; Gwen always smiled at him with so much love and kindness. He couldn't help but think she smiled at everyone liked that and he read too much into it simply. He had thought... he had thought that they both had a thing for each other... apparently, he was alone with that. She was canoodling with a prince all this while as he kept loyal to her, not even thinking about other women out of devotion to her! God, he had been so clueless... and such a girl...

Arthur, he now had proof, wouldn't have kept so loyal to Guinevere in his place. And Gwen liked girls like Arthur... so... maybe he should change. Be a little more... selfish. It went against everything he believed to be right, but he was angry with Guinevere and wanted her to know what kind of man Arthur was. She didn't seem like herself today. She seemed so distant, absent that day... they usually talked and laughed together as they did their chores, but now all she did was hummed noncommittally during pauses. She made no effort to join the conversation and seemed too weighed down to be able to let go.

"Gwen," he asked kindly, "Gwen, what's wrong?"

"Hm?" Gwen said, blinking. "Oh... I... no, I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

Merlin looked at her obligingly.

Gwen burst into a sad smile. "No," she said, and her voice broke his heart. "No, I'm not."

"Because of Arthur and Morgana?" He asked.

"Noooo," Gwen said at first, but then she burst out laughing, struggling with tears. Merlin suddenly felt a stab of guilt.

"Well... yes," Gwen said at last, wiping the sides of her eyes. "Yes, I am! Why... why would she spend the night? He has never asked me to spend the night!" She cried. Once the waterworks turned on, there was no stopping them. "I... you know we have been dating, don't you? Or, I don't. We kissed sometimes, and talked... and I... I thought it meant... more than it apparently did to him."

Merlin suddenly felt awfully guilty. She was so into Arthur... he didn't want to tear them apart. He also wasn't sure if he wanted a girlfriend hung up on someone else. He decided to do the right thing, in a stark contrast to what he had been doing so far. "Look... Gwen. I'm actually sure they didn't sleep together."

"But he still received her," Gwen insisted stubbornly. "How would you know, anyway?" She asked, turning to him disbelievingly.

"Well..." Merlin said, grinning, picking out the prince's stained nightwear from his basket. He dangled it in front of Gwen. "Look at this." He suddenly wasn't so sure what he was trying to achieve with this. Judging by Gwen's expression, the sight of his stained nightwear didn't seem to reassure him as much about his fidelity as Merlin had hoped. "If they had slept together, I would be washing his sheets right now," he said, laughing.

"You wash his sheets anyway," Gwen snapped and Merlin cursed himself internally for daring to attempt to make a joke to cheer her up, see the beautiful, trademark smile on that presently depressingly forlorn face. "I... I... what kind of dream had he had? About her? Do you think it was about her?" Gwen whined, looking even more hopeless than before. But at least she was alive, not immobile with pain and thought. Merlin supposed he had done good by bringing her back to life even if it was via this particular method.

"I... Maybe it was about you."

"Yea, sure! We slept next to each other once," Gwen said. "Oh, shoot! I shouldn't have told you that. Please don't think I am a slut. I just sneaked into his chambers and... and he understood I wanted nothing but to talk. He held me as I fell asleep. Everyone thinks he's such a jerk, but he's really sweet deep down inside. He just hides it because he doesn't want to get hurt. And I assure you... his pants didn't have this stain on them when we woke up. I would have noticed. We were sleeping next to each other. He was... he was erect the following morning." Gwen said with a furious blush.

Merlin felt increasingly uncomfortable, and even revolted, imagining the girl he had considered a pure angel up until that point in the aforementioned scenarios with that blond swine out of all people. He was just disgusted. It felt like a personal affront. Why did Arthur get everything he, Merlin ever wanted? It was just so unfair.

"I... I get it," Merlin managed finally. "That's... great. Maybe he was... maybe he was dreaming about that time he hugged you once." He couldn't muster the effort to sound sincere.

Gwen sighed. "Don't be rude, Merlin. I know you think I am some sort of slut now!"

"Did you sleep with him?" To Gwen, Merlin seemed unusually gruff. The servant girl felt irritated by his male counterpart's actions.

"No!" Gwen gasped, affronted. "Why would you...? I just told you that we didn't. Merlin, I am honest with you. Besides," she added stubbornly. "It is not a crime to sleep with the one you love. Despite what the pope says. That is how babies are made, you know?! What could be evil about two people consummating their relationship?"

"I... I think I've heard more than I needed to." Merlin said, looking nauseous. He had already resumed washing his master's dirty clothes. Gwen, feeling more miserable than ever, resumed her chores as well.

Morgana was so lucky, she thought, the greatest beauty of the five kingdoms. She might have noticed how she had every man falling at her feet if she wasn't so blind. And now Arthur too... how could she compete with a lady for the prince's affections?

/

Merlin didn't want to be obvious about his affections. The thought of them together... in bed... it was just blood-boiling. It made him crazy with jealousy and rage. In his mind, Gwen and he were... flirting. Before. For months now. Which was what came before a relationship. It was the... prelude to any and every relationship. The inevitable, shy, and adorable beginning of every romantic union!

Oh, who was he kidding! He had simply been too much of a coward to ask her out, or to even openly profess his feelings to her, and now he was boiling in the stew he had cooked up for himself. Had he really expected that no one else would notice how amazing Guinevere was? Beautiful, kind-hearted and charming - what else could a man want?

She still could have, he told himself, waited for him... he had... he had rejected Morgana, after all, and the reason he hadn't acted up on his fondness for her was because it didn't reach the level of his attraction for Gwen. After all, a woman with such a harsh life and still a smile on her face every day. They said she was emotional, but she was the strongest person he knew. Morgana, on the other hand, was cold and harsh (despite having what Merlin saw as an easy life compared to a servant's existence), and he knew what that equaled to in Uther's kingdom, but in Merlin's mind, strength was defined otherwise...

But Gwen had moved on. The depth of her feelings towards him - for he had known she had feelings towards him - weren't as deep as his. He thought his attraction to her to have been evident, too. All of a sudden, he despised her with a burning passion for abandoning what hadn't even yet had time to blossom. (But it was still passion.) In his anger, he suddenly considered her fickle. The rejection was easier to bare if it wasn't his fault.

Out of pride, he didn't want to fight for her, to pursue her, to save himself from further humiliation, despite the burning desire within him to remain with her. He thought himself insane - to be in love and to hate a woman he had never even yet kissed. Yes, he had been living in his head too much, fantasizing so much about Gwen his mind had confused fiction with reality. He concluded he had gone slightly insane and became detached from reality from thinking too much.

If he wanted to get Gwen to notice him, he needed to do something bigger. She had liked him once, hadn't she? Arthur had been there and available - he hadn't, too busy with coping with Court life to notice what in retrospect seemed obvious. It was his fault, he told himself, that she had moved on. He hadn't indicated clear interest in her, and women didn't usually pursue men. It was just costum.

Ah, he didn't know! He just didn't know. Had she moved on despite his clear intentions, or because his intentions with here were unclear? It was so hard to decide why another person had done what they had done.

But she could have only moved on because she didn't think he reciprocated his feelings... it was a possibility, he wasn't fooling himself, after all, initially he too had been completely blind to her affections for him... he had needed another one to enlighten him... It had been Morgana, seized by compassion and goodwill for her two dear friends, who had shed light on Gwen's feelings for him...

Morgana... did she like him too?

Why was she wearing that sheer dress, if not to seduce him? But it seemed so unthinkable. Morgana, the third highest in rank in the Castle... in love with him, a serving boy, who her stepbrother kicked around like a helpless dog? (For he was helpless, if he wanted his head to remain attached to his neck, he had to refrain from speaking his mind to Arthur. That was true for everyone, however, in the Court in certain situations except for the King.) He had to talk to Morgana... to find out...

He supposed that if he asked her why she had shown up on his doorstep at mindight in a nightgown even many streetwalkers would have been shy to put on, he shouldn't ask her about Gwen as well. Except without Morgana to help him, he was just as clueless when it came to feelings and romance and girls as Arthur had insinuated...

/

Arthur's desire for Morgana would not be ignored. The more he tried to repress it, the stronger it came forward minutes later. There was an inexplicable bond, as though an invisible chord was pulling them together. It had been so since he had turned 16. Before that, he was still able to look at her more or less as just a friend, but his carnal desire for her was beginning to grow. To him, they were no longer boy and girl playing together in the sand, they were man and woman and there was nothing innocent about his desire for her, or childlike. But what had been tolerable for him as a child was no longer as a man.

As a child, he hadn't been fully conscious of his role at Court. He looked up to Morgana - who was a year older than him -, and rarely stood up to her domineering nature. She was the brains of every one o their pranks, he the muscle. He accepted that their teacher always praised Morgana, putting her on a quasi-pedestal, that Uther always told him to be more like her. Morgana was the son Uther had always longed for but never had, and it stung. In his adolescence, however, he began rebelling against Uther's authority, and decided to become the kind of King he wanted to be, and not his father. There was no pleasing his father, unless of course it came to Morgana.

She was beautiful, smart, cunning (if need be), and domineering. That was the quality Uther admired in her the most - he saw himself in her, despite a lack of blood relation.

Arthur sometimes wondered how Morgana would have turned out had she been raised the same way as him. As his ward, he had her pampered and loved. With his son, he was much stricter. As a result, Arthur was an emotional cripple.

He had hated Morgana for so long, feeling that she had robbed him of his father's love. Than he realized that Morgana couldn't be blamed for Uther's actions; Uther was a grown man responsible for himself. It just still hurt. But he didn't dare voice his true feelings to the King. He shuddered to imagine what that would have resulted in.

He had spent so much time away from Morgana, cultivating friendships with Knights with whom the fight for dominance was friendly and not a fight to the death like with Morgana. Sure, she had improved over the years since their childhood... and she had been kinder than usual to get what she wanted yesterday... but she was only kind if it befit her temporary needs. That girl was so selfish... and she didn't even realize it!

By the end of the day, Arthur was forced to admit to himself that unless he did something about his feelings for her, they would always be there, haunting him in the worst possible moments, like lying next to another girl or at night when he was alone or during dinner as she cracked her horrid jokes that everyone but he seemed to enjoy... he wanted her, he knew, and he owed it to Gwen and any women that came after her to either consummate his desire for Morgana or to somehow let it die completely, in order to finally forget her. But at the same time, he was really attached to Gwen and didn't want to hurt her or risk losing her by putting their relationship on hold.

It was a curse to be so in love with two.

He thought long and hard. He's been attached to Gwen for three weeks now (though it felt like a lot more); on the other hand, he had been crazy for Morgana for 5 years. 5 years. 5 miserable years of admiring her from afar. Now, it was time to end that, one way or another.

/

Merlin approached Morgana after completing his chores. He felt guilty for what he was about to do, and could barely maintain eye contact, fully aware - even if Arthur refused to admit it - of the extent to which Arthur loved Morgana. Sometimes, he let things slip. Not specific things. But when she won a swordfight and he commented on her prowess with that faraway look in his eye... though of course afterwards when she came over to receive her dose of praise, Arthur only scorned her. Arthur's love was tainted with jealousy, and a number of the other cardinal sins. In fact, their relationship - consummated or not - was like a carnival of the seven cardinal sins.

Morgana was vain, spending hours on her appearance each day but never fully satisfied with it.

Arthur was obviously the personification of envy when it came to Morgana.

They were both prideful toward each other, and their relationship was characterized by lust rather than love. They all possessed the other deadly sins - wrath, gluttony, sloth - to varying extents, especially depending on their moods.

To be fair, they also possessed prudence, justice, temperance, courage, faith and hope. Temperance the least, but least they still possessed it. They were an interesting pair.

But, it's not like they were going to work out, Merlin thought. Arthur's never going to do anything and if he acted upon his feelings, he would save Morgana from a lifetime of disappointment. Yes, it was only for the better if he acted out on the urges he had been so far repressing. He liked her. Not like Arthur liked her.

He had seen her vulnerable, doubting her magic; with him she had been always kind, never showing any sort of superciliousness. Images were already running through his mind... Merlin's love was of a more innocent form than Arthur's. He thought about spending time with her, her laughter, her cuteness, as well as things Morgana, he supposed, wouldn't be necessarily thrilled to find out.

He had given up on Gwen, even if he still liked her. She was an angel personified, really, but she already had her prince. Morgana, for some reason, seemed to fancy him and he wasn't going to argue with her. It was in fact very flattering to he chosen over suitors of much higher lineage. But no. He wasn't going to go there again. Make up fantasies because it was better to live in them than face potential rejection. If he was going to spend the upcoming months thinking non stop about a girl, he was going to make sure that girl returned his feelings. He regretted these past months of inaction and fantasy more than possibly anything else. It had been a true and complete waste of his time!

/

Merlin knocked on Morgana's room, heart in his neck, shaking like a leaf in the wind, after his chores had been completed with a bouquet of roses he had asked Gwen for. The door opened. He hoped Gwen wouldn't be there. She probably didn't have any feelings for her whatsoever, but still. He didn't want her to witness his possible rejection. After all, he thought, it was still possible that Morgana had dressed up for Arthur, or some other night, or had been just touring the Castle for some action... no! He was being stupid. He had to ask. He couldn't believe it, he needed confirmation.

"Come in!" It was Gwen's voice, but she could hear Morgana's in the background as they went back to their previous conversation.

Merlin gulped hard, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Hey Merlin," Morgana said cheerily upon seeing him. If their argument last night had had an effect on her, she was determined not to show it. It felt like nothing had happened between the two of them. It was more comfortable this way. "What's up?"

"I...I..." Merlin stammered.

Gwen shot him an encouraging smile upon seeing his expression.

"I'll take my leave now, then," she announced.

"What? Why?" Morgana pretended not to understand.

"I have something to attend to," she said.

"All right," Morgana said. "But when you come back, get me one of those lemon tarts from the kitchen, will you? I'm starving for one of those."

Gwen nodded and left. Her exhaustion was evident for Merlin but Morgana seemed not to notice. Merlin stepped forward, and showed the flowers he had been hiding behind his back in the meantime to Morgana, who seemed taken aback.

"Are those... for me?"

Merlin nodded with a nervous smile on his face. He reckoned he must have seemed like an idiot, but by some miracle Morgana seemed touched.

"Oh," she said, taking the flowers away from him, marveling at them. They were the most special ones he could find and that Gwen could give him in such short notice. "they're beautiful." They really weren't that much but he took it as Morgana's appreciation of the gesture. "You're so kind." She said.

Merlin supposed that for all her admirers, few would have dared to approach her. They knew the side of her that was as dangerous as volatile as Kilgharrah. He was glad to say he knew the other side - the gentle, the kind, and the fair Morgana. He supposed not many had had the privilege.

"Oh, it's nothing at all," Merlin said.

The cogs in Morgana's mind seemed to be whirring. She seemed confused but glad. Merlin was beginning to think that yesterday's midnight fiasco had really been an attempt at seduction. It made his heart beat faster.

"I... um, Merlin, to what do I owe this unexpected but all the more welcome gesture?"

"I...I... um... I wanted to talk about last night."

"Oh." Morgana's face fell, but then she mustered a smile. "What about yesterday night?"

Merlin could only stammer for the longest time. Morgana took the lead then.

"Look," she began, "I didn't mean to barge in upon you like that. I just... really needed to tell someone... how I felt... but I realize it was stupid now," she said. "I don't have magic. I just have nightmares." She forced a laugh. "And... if it's about the dress," she said, looking anywhere but at him and then straight into his blue eyes with her piercing green orbs, "I'm sorry. I wear that every night. I was completely unaware of the effect it had on men." There was a sly smile on her face as though she were joking. Merlin took her seriously.

"I... oh... I... well, then... I suppose I should be leaving now..." humiliated, he was already about to take his leave, his heart pounding in his ears.

Morgana's laugh reverberated in the room. Her face was bright with mirth. "Oh, come on! Merlin! I was just joking. I wore that nightgown because I thought you might like it. It's also awfully comfortable, I just love the fabric. But I suppose you don't really want to go into the joys of wearing silk. Please, come sit down."

This conversation was like a roller coaster ride for Merlin. He obliged and took a seat in front of the woman at the table she was sitting at. It was where she ate her dinners and lunches when she felt too ill to partake in the official mandatory rèpas of the day, which Uther insisted on.

He felt like he was at an interview and Morgana was about to decide on whether to buy him or not. Merlin wanted to talk, but by God he couldn't. He was secretly immensely glad when Morgana took the lead again. He enjoyed what intimidated many others about her: her dominance was a safety net. He took the charge, he took the lead, and as a result he was tasked with nothing. He just had to sit there and that was a relief.

"So, talk," Morgana said. "Why did you come here today?"

"I... I - look, Morgana... I know this is going to sound stupid. But I regret terribly my reaction to your - your confession, yesterday. I was... I was taken by surprise and suddenly didn't know what to say. And about your dress... it was very beautiful."

He was blushing scarlet and couldn't look in her eyes. When he finally did after an awkward pause, she burst into a laughter that reminded him of wind chimes: a perfect melody.

"Thank you," Morgana said. "I accept your apology. No harm done. Au contraire," she said.

Merlin blinked. Au what? The only foreign language he quasi-knew was Latin, thanks to the notes in the spell book Gaius had given him.

"It's really for the better nothing happened that night," Morgana said, her eyes alive, grinning. Her grins were always more like smirks, and her eyes tingled with a sort of fire Merlin had never seen in others. "Everything happens for a reason, right, Merlin?"

Merlin suddenly didn't know what she was talking about. "I - well, maybe not -" he said, not liking where this was headed.

"I really like the flowers," she said, standing up. "They're beautiful. I appreciate the gesture. More than you will ever know."

"What - what - I don't get -" Merlin's heart sank. He felt like he had been punched in the gut.

She lowered her head to be level with his. Merlin suddenly felt short of breath. He was completely confused, and in his greatest act of self-betrayal, he admitted to himself that he absolutely loved it and made him fall even harder. All the feelings he had been denying, fearing that a lady of such noble lineage would never return the feelings of a lowly servant boy... now resurfaced, all the stronger for once they had been repressed.

She leaned down and breathed a short, but sweet, a short but heartfelt kiss on his lips. The kiss perfectly conveyed Morgana's bittersweet goodbye. Her eyes were full of guilt when she broke apart - even though Merlin could have gone on for several sunlit days -, and some sadness Merlin couldn't process was really for his loss, but her smile and actions showed that she was otherwise perfectly content with this decision. Here had been such a beautiful woman harboring tender feelings for him, and he had wasted all this time on Gwen?

Merlin couldn't believe himself, his stupidity and the missed chances it resulted in.

"Gwen is going to be back any minute," Morgana said. "You'd better leave soon. Take the flowers with you."

Another punch in the gut. But because she was giving it, he couldn't help but accept it, as smitten as he was. As smitten as he had always felt, as smitten as he had now allowed himself to feel.

"I'm really sorry," Morgana said. "But it's better this way. Trust me."

Merlin, with the flowers he had begged Gwen for in his hand, felt so humiliated he suddenly wished the Earth would swallow him. He had taken a chance... and now, how he wished he hadn't!

"C-can I just... can I just ask who was it?" Merlin said.

Morgana, sitting at the table again, looked up at him. "Oh. It's no one," she lied. "I just... I was just vulnerable, and you were there."

"And when I wasn't - because I was too stupid to notice the signs - Arthur was there, ready to fill my place, wasn't he?" Merlin had been repressing his emotions for so long he was no longer able to hold them back.

Morgana was suddenly too shocked to speak. Merlin was too angry to feel guilt. He wanted to trample on the flowers, burn them, deny every proof of his affections for her. The two girls he had liked the most in his life had both rejected him in favor of the same man. He had always been kind and just, in the shadows, saving and guiding Arthur without his knowledge... without him, the great Prince would be dead! Did they know that? He wanted them to know that... so they could see Arthur for who he was, not who he pretended to be.

He, Merlin had always done the right thing... Arthur, simply whatever suited him best... just what about this man was that got everyone falling at his feet? He was a pathetic excuse for an heir, everyone knew that; his father, Morgana...

He couldn't fathom it.

"Just what is it about him that is so great, huh?!" Merlin was losing control. He was taking years of inadequacy out on Morgana, who so happened to be there when the cup finally overflowed with the last drop. "He's been with Gwen too, you know. He didn't care about your emotions then."

Morgana snorted. She didn't know what to say; she was too shocked to come up with anything.

Merlin went on, taking her silence as an invitation. "What's so great about it, huh? That everyone chooses him over me?! Is it his blond hair? Chiseled features?" His words were hurtful, mocking, and each one felt like a stab in the chest to Morgana. "Is it that he's good with the sword? Crown Prince of Camelot? How could I compete with all the glory and the riches?"

The moment he got those words out he knew he had gone too far. He was just taking out his insecurities on others - saying them aloud for the first time in his life, they sounded ridiculous to his own esrs as well. He knew Morgana wasn't like that; not Morgana...

She seemed unimpressed by his outburst. "You need to get out," she said. Her voice was low and commanding. The look in her eyes told him he had no choice but to obey. He didn't want to, but he knew the consequences. He turned to leave, his humiliation increasing, his emotions slowly dissipating to gave way to reason again. "Also, a friendly reminder: just because I treat you like an equal, that doesn't mean we are equals. Don't you forget, you're a servant and I'm the King's Ward."

She was standing now, resting her hands on the table in front of her, something like hurt in her eyes and on her face, but her voice was even. She seemed to notice his appraisal of her, straightened her back and raised her head slightly, cockily. The look in her eyes haughty. Whatever bond had previously united them was now broken.

"You're not to address me anymore or seek my company. Do you understand that?" She said. All traces of vulnerability and emotion gone. She was all force. Merlin nodded, defeated, obeient, complacent. "Merlin... I don't know about other girls, but after your outburst today, I'm glad nothing happened between us, and I think Gwen is probably too."

Merlin felt a wave of anger wash over him. Morgana smirked slightly, but she tried to hide it. Merlin just nodded, not knowing whether to cry or scream in anger. He hated her, but he knew he had messed up...

Gwen entered the room - the temperature of which felt glacial - when he was about to leave. The pretty servant girl froze when she saw them staring at each other like two soldiers before battle.

"Bye now, Merlin." She said, and his name sounded alien on her lips, full of scorn and demeaning, for the first time in their life, like he was just some big joke. Merlin left, nodding, bowing his head a little, his eyes bloodshot, unable to speak. He left quickly. _Oh, how weak he was!,_ Morgana thought superciliously. The thing she liked about him most was the thing that turned her off the most: his sensitivity.

"What happened between you two?" Gwen asked when she came in.

Morgana shook her head, annoyed. She didn't want to discuss it. "Whatever," she said. "It's nothing of any importance."

Gwen smiled disbelievingly. "Come on, it must be! He looked like he was about to cry." She sounded like she felt sorry for him. "What did you tell him?"

"Just leave it, OK?" She snapped suddenly. Gwen seemed taken aback, but nodded and went quiet.

"I'm sorry," Morgana said, immediately contrite.

Gwen said it was OK, but she didn't sound it. Suddenly, she started sobbing, then Morgana began to pry, asking her servant to tell her what was wrong - surely, she couldn't have hurt her that much? That innocent comment? She was mad at Merlin, not her... and she was sorry for taking her anger with him out on her...

Then Gwen came undone.

"Arthur broke up with me," she burst out, wailing, crying, sobbing miserably.

* * *

Author's Notes: I'm sorry... this turned out incredibly long. I love describing the character's inner worlds, but at the same time, that takes up a lot of time and space and I've got to remember we're reading on screens here...

I am very thankful for all the favorites and follows - especially the favorites, they always warm my heart! I would love to hear your opinions, though - what do you like about the fic, what do you dislike, what do you think I could improve on? What do you think about how the characters are acting? Did I manage to convey their essence through the fic? Do you feel sorry for Gwen, or for Arthur, unable to choose between love and desire, not knowing where one ends and the other starts? Who do you think Morgana should choose? Do you want Merlin's feelings for Gwen to be reciprocated?

Review, review, review!

And thank you so much in case you do (bit desperate over here)! Don't forget, that's what every author on FF net wishes for the most! haha

By the way, happy new year!

xx


	4. A Day in the Life of a Servant Girl

_Chapter Four_

 **T** he day had simply been too much for Guinevere. The previous night, she fell asleep to thoughts of Arthur. That was the way it was: he was her first thought every morning and every night, and even during the day she often thought of him, the memory of his love for her giving her confidence and strength to go through each day. She hated her life: she woke up when the rooster cock-a-doodle-doo'd, started working before the precious royals even woke up, and then spent the day doing things for them that every autonomous person should be able to do for themselves. In a normal world, they would be tasked to bathe, clothe and feed themselves without outside help – but because they were royals and this was not a normal world, anything that didn't involve books and merriment and fine silk was deemed lowly and left to the servants.

She was the woman everyone admired for her strength, but at 22, she was beginning to lose hope. Her late mother – whom she missed terribly – would always teach her to smile, because her smile was so beautiful that it had the power to change the world – according to her mother, anyway. Gwen had often thought her mother silly and insisted she was only instilling false hope in her child; not to mention, Gwen thought her way too biased to be able to take her seriously. But her mother's oracle had proven to be true in the end: her smile, she was often told, brightened up other people's days and gave them courage to go on with their chores. And her smile, in the end, had made the Crown Prince of Camelot fall for her… her Dickensian fate seemed to finally reverse itself.

For a while (about a month now), she was beginning to believe that Fate was done hurting her, and was ready to give her the things it had been holding back so far. A romance with a kind man who loved and cherished her, and a life that didn't include back-breaking work. The work wasn't necessarily the problem (althought it most definitely wasn't pleasant either): it was the lack of appraisal and her lowly status. Everyone, except for Morgana and now Arthur, treated her like pondscum.

Morgana had been the moon, but Arthur's love for her shone even brighter: he was her sun. Merlin, and the other servants, and other moments, were the stars scattered across the canvas of her dark universe. She was beginning to love her life again, like she had done before her mother's death, her father's wrongful execution for sorcery, before her brother had gone away to fight in the wars of a neighboring country as a mercenary to be able to send money home…

Her family worked all day, back-breaking work, but only manly jobs paid considerably better: blacksmiths and mercenaries earned better than servants and laundry maids. Gwen felt that was unfair: her mother had done the laundry of the entire town, and did it as though she was doing her own laundry, with her heart and soul in her work. Surely, in a normal world, where peace and love prevailed and not insanity, her mother's work would be more appreciated than anything connected to bloodshed. Oh, men…! If only they were a bit more like women – empathic and gentle – the world would be a better place. But she knew that was a stereotype: not all women were empathic and gentle, and not all men were rough and indifferent.

Morgana was kind to her, yes, but she was driven by her extremely strong sense of justice, not empathy. Morgana was an enigma: when you were beginning to think you knew her, she went and did or said something that made you question everything you thought you knew about her. There was a never a boring day with her, and she supposed that could have been bad for some, but she enjoyed it. Morgana was the first person who had managed to bring some joy into her life after her mother's death. She would never forget that, or stop being grateful for it.

Arthur and Merlin didn't fit the stereotype either, for example… Arthur put up an act to appease his ever-critical father, but deep down, he was as much of a softie as her. That contrast – that external toughness only to reveal a mushy underbelly… it made a girl swoon! He was the perfect man – able to protect, if need be, but a real sweetheart on the inside! At least, that was Gwen's definition of an ideal partner…

Merlin very obviously didn't the rough guy stereotype; he was the most emotional person Gwen knew, and to Gwen, that indicated a lack of strength and self-control. She was emotional, yes, but despair was also an emotion, and she felt a lot of that, had been feeling for quite some time. But she controlled it, hid it, concealed it, like all men and women should.

 _You can cry about it, but will that help?_ , her mother had always asked her. The answer was no. Crying never did. Only actions. _If you can't change it, you have to accept it,_ her father had always said, _Otherwise, it will make you go insane._ And she had, she had tried to accept everything… how her father had been wrongfully executed for sorcery, how Uther got to live in a lavish palace despite murdering thousands of innocent witches and warlocks, how her mother had died way too early and how she never heard from her last living relative… how she was all alone in the world… (because her friendship with Morgana was all about Morgana… she could count the number of times that woman had asked about her day on one hand, and even then she hadn't really paid attention to Gwen's reply!... how could someone like that call herself a friend!?, she wondered. _These royals, they really aren't like us, common people…_ It was like they lived in a world that revolved solely around them and their needs, and everything and everyone else was (bio-)decoration. _)_

That day was her breaking point. For so long, the pain had been too much to bear alone, and she had confessed some things to Arthur who had consoled her so lovingly (as if he cared!...all this while, he had undoubtedly been thinking about ways of fucking Morgana while he was with her…! The thought made her blood boil…), but she had wanted those times with him to be happy, not be weighed down by her personal troubles… later on, she would let him in as he had let her (which, to her, were endlessly interesting and it was an honor to be confided in by a prince; she wasn't burdened by that at all and allowed Arthur to talk endlessly about himself…), but she didn't want every aspect of her life to be tainted by absence, grief and depression.

Then the man whose love had held her together was found in bed with an ever-beautiful Morgana in a sheer, sheer dress… yes, they hadn't done anything… but she had flattered herself that Arthur's attraction for her stepsibling was gone now that they had gotten together… she had thought… she had thought the kisses, the caresses, the sweet nothings whispered in each other's ears, the stolen glances during dinner when she served them (which Morgana hadn't noticed! How self-obsessed could a girl be!?), the kisses, oh the kisses, the hugs, the shared secrets had meant a lot to him too… more than to jeopardize it for lust! Morgana and Arthur barely talked, and when they did, they only ever fought. And what else could hold together two such incompatible people than lust? Love? She doubted it. It was a mad obsession, a lust, a hunger, something dark and sinister… real love wasn't like this! Her mother had been a free-thinking Christian, and if her 20-year long marriage meant anything, she knew what love was and what made a couple work…

Their love – a peaceful, perfectly functioning union – was gone. Jeopardized. Shattered. Atomized completely, because of one weak man's uncontrollable lust for a woman who only loved herself. Gwen wanted to break something… she wouldn't hurt people, but she needed to break something in order to feel powerful again… to know that she had the power to break, not only the ability to be broken...

And the day seemed to go on forever… Morgana's lack of chastity – well known around the castle –, was all the talk of the servants… the servants, who had known the ethereal princess since her childhood, got to know her as the orphaned child of a defeated line of rulers of Cornwall, who had lived through her every heartbreak (after many she had run to the servants to be consoled), almost felt as if she was their own child. Of course, many didn't approve of her and condemned her actions, but they were a minority. The majority were old women, many of them childless, who loved her as their own kin. How did such a selfish girl deserve so much love…? In what world…? Gwen couldn't wrap her mind around the phenomenon. Some people seemed to get everything, while others, nothing. It was hard to feel as though it wasn't being personally taken away by them in her current situation.

But she survived it all. She survived hearing Morgana go on about Arthur when she knew perfectly well that something had transpired between them the night before, tormented by not knowing what exactly. She survived having to bathe her princess and towel her off and then dress her, like some sort of child, incapable of fending for herself. She survived Merlin dangling Arthur's stained nightwear in front of her face like it was a proof of Arthur's fidelity – when in reality, it was just the opposite… She supposed Merlin had meant well, but it felt like he was twisting the knight in her back… Then all the talk amongst the servants about Morgana and Arthur, the endless debate around whether or not they would make a cute couple… in which she had to participate unless she wanted the vultures to sniff out her connection to Arthur, in which case all would be doomed… She knew there was no way in hell that Uther would hold his only son accountable for the romance, but he would undoubtedly punish the lowly servant instead, painting her out to be an evil seductress and Arthur the willing victim… After all, Camelot could do without just one more servant, but without an heir, the kingdom's future was jeopardized, and the Pendragon bloodline dead…

And she almost survived it all - althrough drowning in the crippling feeling of inadequacy and incertitude, but still would have survived... if it weren't for one final blow to her self-esteem.

Long past nightfall, by the time she was finally completing all the day's chores and was just on her way to return to Morgana's chambers, she felt a strong, warm, and familiar hand grab hers and pull her into an alcove, where the owner of the hand had obviously been hiding for God knows how long. This scenario was pleasantly familiar: next would come a kiss, longing stares into one another's eyes, a sweet nothings whispered in each other's ears, and a short discussion on where they would meet the following day, or that night... Their meetings had always been innocent, but suddenly a crippling feeling overcame her: what if the only reason for his lack of attempts at seduction had been because he had been secretly fantasizing of her while he was with her? What if he was merely a substitute, a balm to heal the hurts caused by Morgana? What she had considered swoon-worthy chivalry and respectfulness were only further proof of Arthur's selfishness and spinelessness. No! No! She told herself firmly. For the sake of her own sanity, she had to believe that not everything had been about Morgana during their relationship. That Arthur was the gentleman she had gotten to know him as - even if tragically only in love with someone else. Someone whose heart was too free to ever be possessed like hers had been.

This time, she could feel Arthur was going to deviate from the usual scenario.

Only not in the way she had so hoped.

There was no pitiful groveling for her forgiveness, no pleas to be heard, no begging for another chance... His eyes were hard and emotionless, and his words cut like a sword. Only the tiny, tiny tremor in his voice revealed that somewhere, deep down, maybe he did feel guilt for breaking her heart and shattering her soul. His words would continue to reverberate in her head long after he had said them: "I love you, I really do." How horrid that the first time he said those words was the last time they would ever talk. _The first time he said I love you was the time he said goodbye_. "But I just love Morgana more." His last words were "I'm sorry." But they didn't mean anything. Not when in the meantime, he was causing her so much pain.

Her heart – broken by absence, grief and depression – finally shattered into a million little pieces, never to be repaired again.

She ran away, back hunched, pride broken, sobbing miserably that broke the heart of the one who had broken hers. Gwen found refuge in one of the many empty chambers (used to be guest chambers), where she cried for what felt like ages - ages were needed to rid herself of the loneliness, grief and despair that she had been repressing for so long. Arthur never followed after her. It felt like rubbing salt into an open wound. After what she later found out was an hour, she was able to put herself back together and pretend as though she weren't hurting. But she felt like cracked glasses repaired with weak glue - about to shatter from the slightest wind and the merest mishandling.

Morgana, immersed in a book about politics (Gwen never knew why she cared, she was only Uther's ward but not his heir), and didn't even notice that she had been late. In any case, she didn't seem to particularly care, which in this instance Gwen was internally grateful for. She tidied up Morgana's chambers, finding some meaningless task for herself to do as she waited for Morgana to talk, in vain. Morgana was too immersed in her book to care. If she cared anything about the goings-on in the Castle - hell, even what had happened yesterday night and the morning after - she showed no sign of it. This only infuriated Gwen furthermore, who was throttling with emotion.

Then Merlin came in. When she thought the day couldn't get any worse... she had prepared him those flowers, yes, but she wouldn't have had she known who it was for! Merlin moving on would have been much easier to bear had it been with anybody else... but the two most important men in her life, lost to the same damned woman!? Merlin had meant so, so much to her, but by God, that had only been another unreciprocated love, hadn't it been? How could she not hate Morgana - beautiful, rich, intelligent, all beyond compare, with the entire male population of Camelot at her feet? How could she not hate her!?

She had gotten her the lemon tart, that damned lemon tart... she told herself she wasn't ashamed of being a servant all the time, every day, night and morning, to be able to bear her sort... but she had never felt more humiliated in her life as she did now.

Then she came back, and all hell broke lose.

"What did I do wrong? Come on, Gwen, I'm your friend, please open up to me..." Like hell you are! "I care about you..." Except when you're claiming the love of my life for yourself!

Gwen felt so torn. Morgana really meant no harm - she really was just like an overgrown child, as all twenty-something royals seemed to be, just in a different way to Arthur... While Arthur never got over his victim complex concerning his father, or his ceased his continous and fruitless attempts to one up his only remaining relative, and was never able to become truly strong, but had learned to pretend to be it instead... all this while, Morgana had escaped into herself as a sort of refuge from the outside world. Her life before Camelot had been harsh, and for all the glamour, it was still devoid of the love she craved. Morgana really, truly only cared about herself after all the hurt she had suffered at the hand of others. Both were weak, and both were strong in their own regard. But Morgana was definitely closer to becoming an adult, Gwen thought, than Arthur. It was something that only dawned on her now.

"Come on, Guinevere, please! I'm begging you! I swear, I'll go get you a lemon tart too, for God's sake-" This act of kindness, the genuine concern in her voice, the contriteness despite being ignorant of what she had done wrong - it was the last straw.

And she shattered, like broken glass held together only by the weak glue of her own resolve.

"Arthur broke up with me!"

* * *

Morgana seemed shell-shocked. The gorgeous green orbs increased to double their size in disbelief.

"W-what?!" Gwen, thankfully, didn't notice the slight upward curl of her lips. Morgana didn't want to smile, she really didn't. It just came naturally, the same way one's eyes start prickling upon hearing somethign incredibly sad. "You broke up!?" Then concern for her friend washed over her own selfishness. Her heart broke for Gwen, knowing what this must have felt like for her servant.

Gwen nodded furiously, her vision impaired by the big, fat tears in her eyes. When they prickled down her beautiful, contorted to unrecognizable proportions by pain, fresh ones immediately replaced them. After the first tear, there was no stopping the breakdown. The absurdity of the situation was that Gwen was only able to find solace in the arms of the woman the man of her dreams had left her for. For all their rivalry, they were the only ones for each other in the Castle.

How she wished that it was any other girl for Arthur but Morgana... this way, she lost both her love and best friend in one fell swoop, at exactly the same time. She lost the last two remaining pillars of her life. But for the moment, she was too crippled under the weight of recent events and her life in general to care for dignity. She just wanted help, and she needed to get it, otherwise, only God knew what she would resort to, all alone, unsupervised, uncared for...

Morgana hugged Gwen close to herself, carressing the latter's back gently, as a mom would a daughter, or a much older sister a young one... "Sssh, Gwen, sweetheart. Sssh." It even had a soothing effect on Gwen until Morgana opened that awful mouth of hers. "It's not your fault, Gwen." She said.

Morgana was merely saying the usual things one longs to hear in the event of heartbreak, but it struck the wrong chord with Guinevere, who abruptly pushed her master away from herself. Morgana nearly toppled backwards from the force of the blow. The princess looked at the servant, her eyes wide with shock, mouth agape with disbelief, and fine, white hands carressing her thin, hurting shoulders... Doing chores all day long gave a servant like Guinevere physical power that someone as idle as a princess could only hope to obtain one day.

The anger that suddenly, unexpectedly washed over Gwen's body seemed to be the antidote to her grief: anger was powerful enough, it seemed, to revitalize her body and soul, bringing her back from the emotional graveyard she had found herself in. She much preferred anger over sadness, she acknowledged, because anger was power and sadness was weakness, she suddenly realized.

"Of course it's not my blood fault!" the servant yelled, a note of hysteria in her voice. "It's not my bloody fault, it's _his_ bloody fault! He bloody dumped me for you – you –" You selfish, promiscuous, undeserving – "It's all your fault!" Gwen was approaching Morgana slowly, menacingly, a frightening look in her eye: the look of those who are prepared to do anything because they have lost everything. Morgana found herself retreating in slight fear. She did not want to strike her servant, or escalate the situation between the two of them in any way. She was still wondering about the right course of action to take as Gwen railed on.

"I don't see how this is my fault at all," Morgana suddenly said, stopping in her tracks, straightening up as she stood. She was no longer afraid, as she seemed to no longer really care if the situation escalated or not. Only out of respect, Gwen knew, did she not treat her as harshly as she was within her right as a princess to do. Gwen intended to take full advantage of this.

"You went into his room," Gwen said. "BEGGED to be taken in! If only you could have just stayed out of it, everything could be perfect now! But no, you just had to butt in, didn't you? Ruin other people's happiness because you yourself are miserable!?"

The memory of his arms around her washed over her psyche; his strong, warm, loving arms reheating and revitalizing her cold, weakened, broken body... and his sweet kisses, his passionate kisses, both of which had used to make her heart flutter, and the love that had made her world go around... and how it was all gone now, forever staying a dirty little secret, like some sort of affair they should all be ashamed of... how only hurt and betrayal remained in the place of something once so pure, so innocent, so godly.

And she blamed Morgana.

"You just had to go and seduce him too, didn't you? All the other men in the castle didn't suffice, did they? I guess for the great and mighty Morgana not even the entire Kingdom of Camelot would suffice, would it? You just have to have everyone wrapped around your finger, don't you? Even the ones not meant for you."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Morgana's eyes were narrowed to her slits and her soft hiss was the 'calm' before the storm.

"Merlin, Arthur – who haven't you slept with?" Gwen could never hope to have half as many men interested in her... and to Morgana, it all came so effortlessly!

"For example those two," Morgana yelled, losing patience. "Gwen, I advise you to be careful of the tone you're taking," her voice was loud and hard, "Otherwise, I'm going to have to kick you out."

"Oh! Kick me out! Such a tragedy! What is there left for me here, in this Castle, anyway?" Gwen demanded. "My boyfriend dumped me for my best friend, and my best friend couldn't care less! I have no one left here!"

Morgana shook her head. "You're delusional," Morgana said, stiffening, shaking her head, her lips curled downwards in disgust. A short silence followed, in which they both stared at each other, anger, defiance, pride clouding their visions. Morgana finally spoke up, "So?" she prompted. "What's stopping you from leaving then?" Morgana regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth - it sounded so dismissive, so final - but she knew she couldn't compromise her pride by taking them back. Gwen had insulted her and had trampled over their friendship like it had meant nothing. As though Arthur's fickleness was Morgana's fault. She hadn't even know they were together, for God's sake! How was this all her fault?

She could have, but she didn't want to argue anymore. She was exhausted, and it didn't seem worth it.

Gwen concealed her shock fast enough.

"Nothing," she said at last, her face unrecognizable, her dark eyes crazed. She looked like a wounded animal about to pounce before it could get injured again. Morgana did not recognize her. The servant girl turned swiftly on her heels and was about to make her leave when Morgana's cold, surprisingly firm hand grabbed hers, and Gwen turned back to face her master. She longed to inflict as much pain as she was experiencing, the strength of her negative emotions having transformed her into someone she didn't use to be before. A person who was as alien as she was welcome, as strong as she was vengeful.

But when she saw Morgana's stone cold expression, she suddenly wished she could take it all back.

"Just so you know," Morgana began mercilessly, "I did not know you two were in a relationship. Otherwise, I would have never gone to his chambers. And I did not know because you did not tell me. And you did not tell me because you knew it would hurt me, because you knew, even if I wouldn't admit it out loud, that I had deep feelings for Arthur. And you knew - or at least suspected - that he felt the same way. You have no one but yourself to blame."

Gwen was trying hard to steady her breathing. Morgana was truly frightful when in rage.

Morgana finally loosened the iron tight grip on her hand. Gwen barely felt her wrist and her other hand instinctively grabbed it to carress it. It was only human to want to make the pain disappear.

"Morgana, I – I" Gwen began.

"Leave," Morgana said. "Just leave." Her voice was cold as stone.

Gwen suddenly so longed to apologize - she had created this awful situation, and she took full responsibilty for her own foolishness -, but by God, she did not dare. One glance from Morgana had the power to strike fear into the hearts of one as though she were an army of a thousand soldiers.

She left her master's chambers like a knight defeated in a parry for the heart of a beautiful princess - in her instance, a dashing prince. She could not help but come to the conclusion that no man was ever worth this much trouble, and suddenly was able to appreciate Morgana for her unwavering loyalty even in the face of her unbearable self-absorbtion, especially compared to Arthur, who had cared for her (or at least appeared to) only to stab the knife in her back in the most unexpected moment. Friendships aren't perfect, and neither are your friends, Gwen recalled her mother's words, a crucial advice she had dismissed because foolishly, mistakenly she had thought herself to be perfect. Or at least, perfect by her own measure.

She left her chambers wondering whether this was the result of her playing with fire. But she had thought Morgana and Arthur were connected by mere lust and nothing more. She had thought neither truly loved the other, nor would even just lift a finger to be with the other. Had she been wrong? Was it really all her fault for playing with fire? Could it all have been avoided?

Despaired by the thought of having jeopardized an honest friendship and incurred the wrath of a vengeful princess, she sobbed herself to sleep, wishing that there was somebody to hold her...

* * *

A/N: :( So sad for Gwen and Morgana. It looks like they're about to learn to not jeopardize a friendship for something fickle as a crush the hard way.

Anyway, what did you think about this chapter? What turns do you foresee the plot taking? Any sort of advice or comment is welcome!

Thank you for reading.


End file.
